Manor of Pleasure: An Erotic Historical Romance (5 page)

He bore down on her twice more, and then collapsed. She turned herself sideways and looked at him.

He was sweating and his eyes were closed. She brushed back his hair from his face. He grabbed her hand, kissed her palm and placed her arm about his neck. She was more vibrant, more beautiful now than ever before.

They stared into each other's eyes, both of them still basking in the headiness of their intercourse.

"So have I persuaded you, Rebecca? Will you come with me to London?"

"Yes, I'm persuaded," she replied softly, smiling. Rebecca brought her hand to his face and stroked his cheek.

Desmond perched himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. "How am I to leave you?"

He kissed her, letting his tongue play along her top and bottom lips. He pulled away from her.

"With enormous difficulty and a rash exercise of discipline," he answered himself.

He sat up and pulled up his pants. He brought her the nightgown and instantly regretted it as she pulled it close.

"Must you leave?" Rebecca asked him. "Won't you stay…until I fall asleep?"

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Desmond replied, adjusting his pants. "Alas, we need to combine forces if I'm to get out of here undetected."

Rebecca pouted. "I shan't help you." She fell back on the bed. "Stay," she commanded.

Desmond pulled her up and gathered her to him. "After we are married, you will never be rid of me." He kissed her forehead. "Now off you go."

Rebecca slid off the bed and padded softly to her bedroom door. She twisted the lock on the door and opened it soundlessly, slipping out of the room to inspect the corridor.

Within a minute, she returned and whispered, "Quickly Desmond."

He kissed her hastily on the lips and made his escape.

CHAPTER EIGHT

At Clayton House the next morning, Desmond rose early despite his amorous pursuits with Rebecca during the prior evening. He believed that he had never slept so well since before he had met Rebecca so long ago.

When he crossed the threshold of the dining room, his mother was there to greet him.

"Desmond, good morning, my dear! How are you feeling this morning?" she inquired with the appropriate dose of maternal concern.

"I'm fine, Mother," he answered, settling in. "Never better."

"Why, when you left early last evening, Lord Garway said you had a headache."

"Quite right. I drank more wine than was good for me, I'm afraid." Desmond shot her a quick smile. Jackson poured his tea. "Thank you, Jackson." He picked up the newspaper.

"I'm glad it was nothing more than that. You must be pleased with yourself, having pulled the wool over my eyes so thoroughly yesterday. You gave me not the tiniest inkling of your engagement with Rebecca." Mrs. Baines smiled brightly.

"I rather think I surprised myself," Desmond replied. "You can give yourself some credit, Mother. You reminded me daily of my prospects with her."

"Yes, and you see, I was right all along," she replied smartly. Desmond grinned at her. His mother continued, "I'll be going up to town shortly. Will I see you for lunch?"

"Unfortunately, no. I have meetings at the firm and then I'm going to try and see Rebecca early before dinner."

Mrs. Baines sighed. "Somehow I cannot imagine Lady Rebecca Garway installed in this house. It doesn't seem grand enough for her."

"Mother…" Desmond started in a warning tone.

"Desmond, you know I'm very fond of Rebecca. I have no doubt of her genuine feelings for you. But think of it. She is used to a bevy of servants catering to her every whim day and night."

Desmond was matter-of-fact when he answered her. "We will, all of us, have adjustments to make. And we are all considerate, rational thinking beings. I'm sure we will manage."

"I'm sure you're right," Mrs. Baines gave her son a perfunctory smile. "I'm off then. We'll see you at dinner." She kissed him on the cheek and left the room.

Desmond put down his newspaper and stared out of the window. Adjustments. He had never thought of the more practical aspects of his union with Rebecca. Things would fall into place, he assured himself. Everything else had up until now.

He knew it was early still. But their relationship was so much more than tender sentiments or carnal appetites. It had proven itself, to him at least, to be a love so deeply entrenched in their natures that it would not be denied by any circumstance, no matter how great.

They had both traveled a long, meandering and arduous path to get to this point. He felt enormously lucky yet he questioned that it was luck at all. It was simply meant to be and it would be, despite everything or anyone.

He reached into the pocket of his tweed jacket, pulled out the scented handkerchief and held it to his nose. Enough, he thought to himself. He would see her later this afternoon. It was time to focus on other things. He folded his newspaper and set off for work.

Lord and Lady Garway sat in quiet contentment over their brunch and tea, each preoccupied by their respective itineraries. They both looked up when Rebecca entered.

"Good morning, Rebecca," her mother greeted her.

"Yes, good morning," Lord Garway rejoined. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, thank you, Father," Rebecca replied. She graced them both with a broad smile.

"You look lovely this morning, Rebecca. Do you have plans?" Lady Garway's eyes were bright as she addressed her daughter.

"Not really, Mother. I had hoped that we could turn our minds to the wedding. There is so much to be decided," Rebecca replied. "I'm quite overwhelmed."

"First and foremost, there is the guest list. We can go over that later this morning, if you like," Lady Garway suggested.

"Perfect," Rebecca answered. "Desmond and I are planning a day trip to London tomorrow. I will have time then to browse the shops."

Lord Garway looked up from his newspaper. "You're going to London tomorrow with Desmond? Have you told him this?"

"Told him? He invited me," Rebecca replied in surprise. "Father, we're no longer children. Besides, I will probably spend more time with Cousin Suzy than Desmond. He has business there."

"Not very pleasant business. I should think that you would not hazard revisiting Sir Isaac so soon," her father replied with caution in his phrasing.

"Whatever do you mean, Father? I can assure you we have no business with him." Rebecca sipped her tea. "And London is far too big to pose even the slightest concern over a chance meeting."

Lord Garway said nothing further. He returned to his paper.

Rebecca paused. "You can't mean that Desmond's business is with Sir Isaac?" She asked her father pointedly.

"It is not for me to say, Rebecca," her father answered. "You best discuss it with Desmond."

"Father, please," Rebecca appealed to him. "What has Desmond told you?"

Lord Garway could not believe that he had wandered into this emotional minefield like a blind man. Thinking he might mitigate his damages, he tried to reassure her.

"He is concerned for you, Rebecca. He means to meet with Sir Isaac to convince him not to publish the story."

Rebecca was dumbfounded.

Lady Garway's mouth was agape. She turned to Rebecca. "Desmond knows of Sir Isaac? You told him?"

"I told him when he proposed," Rebecca replied. "Not that it matters. He told me it meant nothing to him. Now I see that he was mistaken." Rebecca rose from her chair.

"Rebecca, you are mistaking his motives. Don't be angry," her father urged.

"Please excuse me." Rebecca did not look at either of them. She left the room quickly.

Lord Garway spoke first. "I know what she's thinking but she's wrong. Desmond is far above such pettiness. And Rebecca knows him better than any of us." He folded his paper and placed it beside his dinnerware.

"I think we may have underestimated the depth of her feeling," Lady Garway replied softly. "Rebecca has always hid her fears well. She may be worried that Desmond will have second thoughts."

"Then she doesn't know him at all," uttered her husband.

"I'll give her time to sort her thoughts. Then I'll speak with her." She rose from her chair.

Lady Garway went to Rebecca's room within the half-hour. She was not there. Despite the best efforts of Her Ladyship and the servants, she was nowhere to be found.

CHAPTER NINE

"Good day, Abbott, how are you?" Desmond looked about the foyer as he entered Penhope Manor. He had hoped Rebecca would greet him at the door. Lately, it seemed his principal aim in his life was to see her as soon and as often as possible. He needed to be with her.

"I'm well, thank you, sir." The manservant helped him remove his overcoat. "His Lordship has been waiting for you. I've been instructed to take you to him at once." Abbott's manner was hurried, anxious.

"What is it, Abbott? Is something the matter?" asked Desmond. "Nothing serious, I hope?"

"I will let his Lordship explain, Mr. Baines, sir."

Desmond kept pace with Abbott as they hastened to the drawing room. "Mr. Baines to see you, sir. Will there be anything else?"

Desmond observed that Lord and Lady Garway shared the same grim expression.

"Not for now, thank you, Abbott," Lord Garway answered. "Desmond, good to see you."

"Yes, good afternoon. Good day, Lady Garway," Desmond nodded to her. "Whatever's the matter?" Desmond raised his eyebrows. "Where's Rebecca?"

Lord Garway exchanged glances with his wife. "We don't know where she is. Desmond, I assumed – wrongly, it appears – that you had told her of your plans to meet with Sir Isaac. I'm sorry about it but there it is. It upset her very much to learn of it."

"No one has seen her since then," Lady Garway added. "It's been seven hours." She walked to the nearest window and stared out onto the expanse of the gardens.

Desmond looked away, his eyes to the ground. He was shaken to his core. He took a deep breath. He looked back at Lord Garway. "She's not in the house? You're sure?"

"She's taken her horse, Guinevere. She could be anywhere," Lady Garway answered him, her voice fraught with worry. "This is so unlike her, to leave the house without any word of her plans to anyone."

"I either hoped that she would have returned by now," Lord Garway said, "or that, perhaps, she might have been with you."

Desmond brought his hand up to his forehead. His mind was racing. "I wish she had been. I haven't seen her since last night." He looked at the two of them. "She can't be far. I'll leave at once while there's still light."

"I should go with you. We've a better chance between the two of us," said Lord Garway.

"It's not necessary, I assure you. Your place is with Lady Garway." Desmond spoke confidently.

"Rebecca and I followed a well-worn path yesterday. She won't have strayed far from it. I will find her and bring her home. Trust me."

"I'll ring for Tobias. He can get Harold to ready a horse for you. You can take mine." Lord Garway approached the bell pull.

"I haven't time for that, my lord. I can saddle a horse. Please excuse me." Desmond gave them each a final glance and quickly took his leave.

Once in the hallway, Desmond was immediately greeted by Abbott. "You will need these, sir." He handed Desmond his coat and hat. "Follow me. I can show you the shortest path to the stables."

"You read my mind, Abbott." Desmond accompanied the footman through an unfamiliar doorway and down a confined stairwell. It was the first time that Desmond had been allowed entry into the servants' passages.

The bottom of the stairwell opened up to a different world. The corridors were narrow and gray. The eyes of the maids and menservants followed him as he passed.

He smelled the kitchen first before he observed its ruckus. Finally, Abbott opened the doorway leading to the back courtyard.

"You can find it easily from here, sir. See there," Abbott motioned with his right hand.

"Thank you, Abbott."

"Godspeed, sir."

"I will find her, Abbott. Keep an eye out for us."

"You know I will, Mr. Baines."

Desmond walked quickly to the stables. The air was fresh and cold. He tried to flesh out the reasons for Rebecca's extreme reaction. What could she be thinking? His failure to keep her fully informed could not explain this.

Desmond could have charmed his way out of that slight he was sure of it.

His worst fear was that she was punishing herself yet again for an absence of discretion that was the damned Sir Isaac affair. How ironic that would be. It was the very reason he delayed telling her of his plans, to spare her further torment on that score. He saddled a spirited horse and within minutes, he was able to set out.

The sun was low in the sky by the time he reached the landing near the gamekeeper's cottage. He was relieved to see Guinevere there, peacefully feeding on nearby grasses.

He dismounted, tethered his horse. He made his way through the brush with solid strides. Desmond's heart rose to his throat as he neared the cottage.

If she was not here, what were his other options? He had none. He squeezed the latch and pushed on the door forcefully.

The small room was cold and dark. She was lying on the mattress – was she sleeping? He walked quickly to the small bed and sat down on the edge beside her.

She was asleep and breathing quietly. Her eyes were closed, her lashes glistened. Her tear-stained cheeks were flushed. Her hair, having worked itself loose, framed her face in soft brown wisps and strands.

Desmond was overcome with an infinite tenderness. What sadness was she hiding? Did he do this to her? He removed his glove and caressed her hair, her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open. She looked up at him.

"Desmond…how long have I been sleeping?" She started to shiver.

"I don't know, my darling. I've only just arrived." He stood up and took off his coat. "You are ice-cold." He covered her gently with the woolen garment. He sat down again.

She looked into his steel blue eyes. She loved him so. She could feel her eyes well up and a single tear found its way to the edge of her cheek. She wiped it away hastily. "I must get back," she whispered. She sat up slowly. She was cold, so very cold.

"Rebecca, I'm so sorry. I meant to tell you..."

"Please, Desmond, I must get back. My mother and father must be beside themselves with worry." Rebecca pushed his coat to one side.

She maneuvered herself around Desmond and stood up. "Thank you for coming to fetch me. I suppose I'm quite lucky that you found me before I froze to death." She smiled nervously. She straightened her clothing and tried to fix her hair. "I must look a fright."

Desmond stood up beside her and grabbed her hand. "Can you forgive me, Rebecca? I know now that I should have told you.”

She was weak and spent from heartache. She pulled her hand away. "It doesn't matter, Desmond." She shook her head. "None of it matters. You needn't worry. And I shan't hold you to your promise." She turned away from him and walked to the door.

Desmond reached out and grabbed her arm. "Why do you say these things to me?" he entreated, "I don't understand it."

Rebecca refused to look at him. Tears rolled down her face. She prayed he would not see them. She wiped her face dry with her free hand.

Desmond strengthened his hold on her arm and pulled her to him. He spoke to her slowly and with deliberation. "You're mad if you think I'm going to let you leave me." His voice was shaking.

Rebecca closed her eyes and swallowed. She pulled away from him. She grabbed onto the door latch in a feeble attempt to leave. He wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face in her hair. "Not again, Rebecca," he pleaded.

She held her ground. "Let me go, Desmond," she said in a whisper. "I am…soiled goods. Nothing you can do, nothing you can say to anyone will ever change what I am."

“
There's one thing to be said of soiled goods,” Desmond reached for her, and his grip was bruising. “I shan't have to take much care in handling you, shall I?”

“
Please don't tease, Des.” She turned to face him, her eyes shining with tears. "I'm heading towards a firestorm. I will not take you with me. You don't deserve it."

"And you do?" Desmond looked down at her. Her face was still flushed but her lips were colorless. "Rebecca, you're not well." She was shivering uncontrollably now.

He grabbed his coat and wrapped it around her and held her close. Rebecca felt the room spinning and then collapsed in his arms.